The bus is exactly the wrong way. A helper in the parking lot in the small town of Clarkston is still trying to get the driver to turn. But he waves it away. Raphael Warnock (53), his powerful passenger, has to exit through the back door.
Not exactly a good start for the show the US senator has planned for one of his very last campaign appearances in Georgia. Show is all that matters to the black pastor in the embattled state. Warnock has invested more than $100 million in his Senate election campaign, nearly $10 for every resident of the vast Southern state. It’s about a lot, “a lot,” as Warnock says. If he loses the razor-thin race against Republican challenger Herschel Walker (60), the Democratic majority in the Senate, the American Council of States, will almost certainly be over.
About 100 fans came. They are already cheering, waving flags and shouting “Amen” as Warnock has just started his speech. The senator blows his nose and continues his speech, which he has delivered hundreds of times in recent weeks. He speaks of the struggle between good (ie himself) and evil (his adversary). He says, “It’s not a battle between right and left, it’s a decision between good and evil.”
Jambalaya, the prophecy of Jesus and Joey
Warnock, a full-time pastor at Ebenezer Baptist Church in Atlanta, where Martin Luther King (1929-1968) once preached, sounds exactly like a politician: like a preacher. Many pauses, often looking up, long fingers in the air as a warning. Now he stares at the crowd in the small parking lot and then says, “Clarkston, you look like God’s kingdom!”
There are many memories of God’s kingdom here in Georgia, the “Peach State” in the southeastern US. In the far south, where alligators swim through the vast swamps and sizzle jambalaya dishes in the pans of historic coastal towns, every second home has a poster that reads, “Jesus is the Savior!”. In every hamlet, no matter how small, that you pass on your way through the wooded plains to the north, there is at least one church, often no more than a housing container topped with a mini-turret. And in the heart of Atlanta, the capital, home to CNN, Coca-Cola, and the world’s busiest airport in terms of passengers (75 million passengers per year), stands the historic Ebenezer Baptist Church, the most famous black house of worship in the country.
Joey Henderson (66) allows in the park, leaning on his old bike. He smiles almost toothlessly in the warm November sun. His breath smells of strong coffee, his accent sounds deep south, his take on the upcoming midterm elections is clear: “God anticipated everything. The right candidate will win. God’s master plan is ready.”
For many, the opponent of abortion is untouchable
Herschel Walker (60), ex-football star, former Olympic bobsleigher, father of at least four children by at least four women, sees it the same way, Republican nominee for what is likely to be the most important Senate race in next Tuesday’s midterm elections. “God has prepared me for this fight all my life,” Walker shouts into the microphone in the driveway of a huge shopping center in the city of Richmond Hill. A high school class stands around him, frantically brandishing “Herschel Walker” posters, with his campaign bus right behind him. He parked correctly. Show: Herschel Walker can do that. That’s why the latest polls report an imminent sensation: Raphael Warnock, the Democrat, should fear for his Senate seat in Washington.
In Georgia, Walker is a sort of earthly saint. In the 1980s, who was then the country’s top young footballer, he played for the “Bulldogs,” the team of the University of Georgia. Their stadium has 92,000 seats, almost three times more than the Basler Joggeli. The footballers are the pride of the southern state. The “Dawgs” are cheered by neon signs at every gas station and their matches are broadcast live everywhere. Their bright logo is ubiquitous in Georgian everyday life. And their most famous player, Herschel Walker, for many is still untouchable, infallible.
But now Walker wants more than just sporting success. He wants the political touchdown. “Run, Walker, Run!” Donald Trump called to him in 2021. And Walker did as he was told. His political program: a radical potpourri of abortion bans, military build-up and anti-drug measures. His political problem: the two women who accuse him of forcing them to terminate their pregnancy against their will.
Walker warns of the elevator to hell
“I washed myself in the blood of Jesus,” the radiant Walker shouts to the crowd in front of the mall. Everyone has a story, “But there’s forgiveness for that. God has forgiven me. And this pastor from Atlanta, he doesn’t believe in forgiveness, he’s a Marxist!” Anyone who listens to Warnock’s words is in for an elevator ride straight to hell. Then in Richmond Hill, Walker talks about his “Chevrolet, built in 1969,” his seventh place bobsleigh in the 1992 Winter Olympics, how he will “bring Jesus Christ to Washington” and the “holy battle” he leads. wool. Political content? no. The show also does without such details.
One thing is clear: both enlightened ones know that God is on their side in what will likely be the decisive battle in these “mid-term” elections. However, voters’ favor can tilt in both directions. According to the statisticians, the race was “too close to call”, too close to make reliable predictions. But one thing is clear: at least half of those who vote in this beautiful state will have to wonder on Tuesday evening whether they may have been worshiping the wrong idol.